The Goblin's Gorl Ch. 01

Fezzik sniffed the rusty bicycle frame. It smelled faintly of summer heat and young laughter and ice cream. It had been owned once and brought joy to its owner. There were stronger scents laden over these: dust and neglect and abandonment. Nodding, Fezzik produced tools to strip the useful parts from the frame. He would let the scrap-hunters cut down the frame itself. The pedals, chains, and sundry other bits and bobs that went into the rucksack at his feet were far more valuable. Each could be reconditioned almost to new by the magical craft of his kind. They clinked against several other bits of salvage: a pump from an air conditioner, a mismatched set of spoons, broken padlocks, and many others.

He muttered a muffling cantrip under his breath to stop the rucksack's contents from revealing its contents. Fezzik did not fear being accosted by another of his kind. Goblins did not steal. To do so from any being--even the bigwalkers--was against their very nature. Goblins could only take that which was abandoned or rejected. If the bicycle had been stolen by another bigwalker, even touching it with intent to take from it would have left his fingers a seared mess. No, Fezzik did not cast the silencing charm out of fear of rivals. It was to avoid the attentions of the bigwalkers.

Fezzik crept carefully through the alleys of the bigwalker city cloaked in shadow and silence. He stayed well out of sight of the bigwalkers wandering outside on the well-lit streets that no goblin would dare to skulk about. His gaze lingered on the trio of laughing bigwalker gorls in brief clothing revealing tantalizing curves and luscious flesh. Such a healthy, beautiful gorl would be a prize indeed for Fezzik. He stiffened within his breeches at the thought of a gorl at his mercy. But they were not for him to take. There were many gorls in the alleys who had the right smell. Yet they were usually too diseased or riddled with addictions to justify taking them. There were many among his kind who were not so discriminating. But goblincraft could not restore a gorl as they could a bit of machinery or jewelery.

Popping open a grate, he clambered down utility corridors and storm sewers to a bigwalker underground train tunnel. There was a curve here. Fezzik waited patiently until one of the trains rattled past. He leapt abroad between two cars as it slowed down to negotiate the curve. These bigwalker trains served goblins as quick transport out of sight of prying eyes to the mouths of the caverns leading to the Downbelow. It was technically stealing to ride one since they paid no fares. Goblins evaded the restriction by doing volunteer repairs on the track and trains as compensation.

Fezzik settled down for the long ride out to the bigwalker city limits to the last station where he could go Downbelow. It had been a profitable expedition. As an artisan, he could have far more easily found the parts in the market square. It would have been less expensive to do so. Not paying the traders the higher prices for their wares was offset by the coin he lost by not working in his workshop. Still, he enjoyed coming topsides. The bigwalkers were interesting. It was fun to sample the dregs of the drinks and food they tossed out. And...there was always a possibility...

Fezzik took in a deep breath.

Sorrow.

Abandonment.

Beauty.

The scent was overwhelming. Trembling, Fezzik lifted his head above the edge of the window in the door at the end of the subway car. There was a gorl not too far away on the other side slumped in misery in a seat. She sipped from a silver flask she brought to her lips. Hair that Fezzik sniffed was dyed black and purple fell around her face. The goblin took in the lovely form cinched into a tight red corset that uplifted firm breasts barely hidden by a black lace chemise worn underneath. Long legs covered in black fishnet stocks emerging from a black and red tartan miniskirt were sprawled before her. Knee-length boots of black leather clung tightly to the calves. Her head tipped back against the window behind her. Fezzik gasped. There was too much make up smeared by tears on her features. But they were lovely: soft cheeks and bright blue eyes and kissable lips.

A beautiful, abandoned gorl.

Fezzik fumbled with a certain pocket in his rucksack for tools he had always hoped to use.

+++++

Holly let the flask slip from her fingers. It clattered to the floor of the subway car. A stream of cheap rum dribbled out onto the grimy floor. Happy birthday eighteenth birthday, Holly. What a start to the rest of your life. She could still see Dan and Nancy screwing each other in the bed that she had thought only she had shared with her boyfriend. The screaming match had ended up with Dan tossing her out of his apartment without even letting her get her purse. All she had on her was the drinking flask she had picked up from an antique shop because it looked cool. She could probably pawn it for a few bucks. She could have pawned the gold chain Dan had bought her. Only she had tossed it down a storm drain as she stumbled in tears outside of Dan's apartment building.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror opposite her. God, they were right. She was just some Goth poseur with a cheap dye job over her blonde hair. She had abandoned her peaches-and-cream cheerleader look two years ago when she had gotten the call about mom and dad. Things had spun out after that. School hadn't seemed that important. Her fundie Aunt Margaret who had bulled her way into Holly's life with her bullshit about church and atoning for her state of sin had ended up locking Holly out of a house that she suspected that she had inherited from her parents. Getting a lawyer seemed so futile. She had ended up riding the couches of acquaintances in the club scene until meeting Dan six months ago. Life had seemed to perk up. She had even been thinking of trying for her GED.

Now she had nowhere to go. No-one who loved her.

Her nose wrinkled.

Was that cinnamon--

Holly's scream was choked off when a pair of small yet strong legs clamped around her throat. Choking, she clawed at them in a futile attempt to free herself. Blue eyes rimmed with kohl widened in shock when she saw the thing sitting on her shoulders. It was like she was the guy who saw the gremlin on the wing of the plane in that Twilight Zone movie.It was an honest to God goblin: green skin, a hook nose worthy of a Punch and Judy show, pointed ears, and a mouth crammed with needle-like fangs. She did not expect the flat tweed cap or workman's trousers. These minor details paled in the significance that she was being throttled by a monster. Then the rag it held in one clawed hand clamped over her mouth and nose right when it relaxed the choke hold its legs had on her. On instinct, Holly breathed in deep for a shriek that would have been heard from one end of the train to the other.

Cinnamon invaded her lungs. Violet stars bloomed in front of her eyes as the liquid permeating the rag filled her lungs with the sweet-spicy odor. Her hands weakly scrabbled at the creature's hand as she fought whatever drug was in the cloth. She could faintly hear a voice like a tea-kettle mixed with a cement mixing truck telling her to "be a good girl". Only it sounded like "gurl". Or was it "gorl"? Her eyes had almost fluttered shut when the rag lifted away. She tumbled onto her side onto the seat. Lips painted in black lipstick smiled goofily. Oh, wow. This was some really good shit. It was like the best contact high ever. It made it so much less scary when she felt her wrists drawn behind her.

Leather cord wound around her wrists several times before being cinched thrice between them. Her wrists twisted in the leather. It was snug but not biting too hard. Holly had absolutely refused to let Dan tie her up. Aunt Margaret had once tied her wrists to the headboard of her own bed before using a yardstick to cane her. That had been the night that Holly had ripped her way free and booked it for the city. She didn't think she was getting free so quickly now. She could see the goblin more clearly when it took the long free ends of the leather cord binding her wrists about her midriff. It was dressed like some English Victorian miner in trousers with braces and a working-man's jacket.

It tore away her minikilt with a clasp knife. Holly blushed deep red when that revealed slutty black thong panties with the cute skull and bones on them. She had been hoping to surprise Dan with them. She closed her eyes in drugged horror when it slid a spindly finger underneath the spandex. No. No. Nononononono. It grinned with its mouth with froglike lips when it found her bare and smooth there. She didn't like doing that. But Dan had thought it hot. A claw teased the fold at the top of her slit. Her legs jerked spasmodically at the unwanted stimulation. Then the free ends of the cord slipped under the coils of leather around her belly at the back.It was brought up between her thighs. Holly arched when she discovered the goblin had braided the cord where it pressed her thong deep between her lower lips as it was tied firmly to the front of the belly-cord.

Her boots were removed along with her fishnets. The goblin produced another long leather thong. It tied her ankles in loops that were tied in a complex knot that Holly doubted she could pick apart easily. She jerked her ankles apart. They did not part too far. At best, she could make mincing steps in the hobble cord. Holly watched in terror, pleas turned into gibberish by the cinnamon drug, as the goblin rolled one fishnet stocking into a ball. It gripped her long hair firmly as the wadded stocking was shoved into her mouth. The other had a large double knot tied in the center before it was pressed against the packing. The stocking bit into the corners of her mouth as the cleave gag was tied at the nape of her neck under her hair. Over this went the cloth in a classic detective gag bound over her hair. Before it went on, the goblin had soaked the rag with the contents of an old-fashioned Coke bottle.

Her world was cinnamon after that. She vaguely sensed her captor cutting off her corset and chemise. The air-conditioning of the subway car made her nipples tighten. Inhuman hands cupped her breasts. They weighed the firm mounds--"a nice handful and a half", Dan had called them--before kneading them. The influence of the drug and the rubbing between her legs had her shuddering when claws lightly dragged over her nipples. Holly dimly saw station after station pass by. There were still people on the subway even this late. But they never seemed to go into her car. They never seemed to look up from cellphones or magazines. Eventually, the subway train rolled into a yard at the end of the line. The lights shut off.

Over her shoulders was placed a heavy knapsack. Around her throat went a third leather cord that the goblin grasped as a leash. It forced open the doors. Holly resisted as best she could the tug of the leash at her throat. She couldn't. The cinnamon made her so weak. Holly's scream into the double gag came out as a mewl when--perched on the edge of the doorway--a tug on the leash sent her falling down. The goblin caught her with a grunt in a parody of a bridal carry. Set upright again, she stumbled after her captor as it lead her over the tracks into some bushes. Deep within them, there was a fissure in the earth. It was not wide enough to admit a squirrel, let alone a goblin or a girl.

Or was she a gorl?

Then the goblin chanted an a language that had her skin crawling.

A darkness deeper than a black hole's filled the fissure...and it widened with a grating of stone on stone.

Holly threw her head back.

Oh god no, there were clouds, she couldn't see the stars or the moon or the sky--

And then Fezzik took her into the Deepdown.